


Being Alive

by yellowledbetter



Series: 20th Century Mutants [3]
Category: Marvel, X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Charles Xavier Needs a Hug, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik Lehnsherr Has Feelings, Erik Lehnsherr Needs a Hug, Erik sings the lullaby, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Pietro Maximoff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Peter is babey and is secretly soft, Pietro Maximoff Feels, So they get over themselves and finally get together, dadneto, erik gets what he deserves, everything is so gay, lowkey a fixit fic, the dadneto we deserved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29908521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowledbetter/pseuds/yellowledbetter
Summary: Erik deals with the aftermath of figuring out he has a son. He now must decide in himself if he is worthy of having everything he has ever wanted.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Pietro Maximoff, Erik Lehnsherr & Pietro Maximoff & Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr & Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: 20th Century Mutants [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185818
Comments: 18
Kudos: 153





	Being Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a direct continuation/follow up for my fic "5 Times Peter Almost Told Erik (+1 time he figured it out himself) which i would really recommend you read first as it picks up where the fic left off! I'm only publishing this separately because I didn't mean for the original fic to get that long! But if you're lazy which is valid, this is basically Erik having a breakdown about being a dad, and also in which Charles asks him to stay. This is also the 3rd installation of 20th Century Mutants, and as the first three fics, which are the basis of the series is complete, I would love to hear suggestions of what you'd like me to write about next! I plan to open a collection of fics that take place in this AU that are predominantly slice of life, but I do have plans for standalone, more major fics! But anyway, I'd love to hear what you'd want to read!

_“But alone, is alone, not alive!_   
_Somebody crowd me with love_   
_Somebody force me to care_   
_Somebody let come through_   
_I'll always be there as frightened as you_   
_To help us survive being alive!”_

There was Erik’s head, and there was Erik’s heart.

If there are infinite realities Erik knows somewhere along the multiverse that there is a version of him who managed to live by his heart. He envies him, but he’s proud of him too. 

It’s a comfort for him, that somewhere beyond him this chronic loneliness wasn’t the only way he could be, that he wasn't entirely doomed. Erik has moulded himself into a sort of architect – mind over all things, a mind and machine who’s purpose was justice. In ways he had to be, this sentinel of justice – built from circumstance and ambition, and a need. But deep down, Erik wondered if this was really what was meant to be. He recalls a boy, one that he once was – and that boy, was all heart. He remembers a full heart, with so much trust – he wonders what that boy would be like today, had he been allowed to live and grow up.

He remembers playing football games in the garden with his father, learning how to braid hair for his sister, digging weeds out of old ladies’ gardens for a spare bit of change all to buy his mother some flowers for Mother’s Day. The memories were so long ago Erik doesn’t even remember them as his own, rather some sort of story he had read in a book or a folk tale. The boy is dead, buried in a mass grave somewhere - or perhaps never even real, simply a figment of Erik’s hopeful imagination.

But a little bit of the boy lives in Pietro Maximoff.

It’s what had drawn Erik to the boy in the first place. This youth that burst from his seams, this playful twinkle glistening in his eyes, and a bouncing, restless heart that was worn on a sleeve. Pietro is like a wonderful antique find - he is dirtied, dusty, scuffed up from wounds and loss and hurt that Erik hadn’t been present to protect him from. But he’s not broken, he’s still as valuable, still treasure - still the same entity in spite of it’s damage. 

Erik is not sure of that for himself. He feels he is beyond broken, the little pieces of himself having been scattered so far and wide he is no longer the same entity he once was - merely a borrowed Frankenstein reconstruction. He cannot risk damaging Pietro any further.

But the connection he has formed with Pietro is addictive, and warm - like the one he had experienced with his mother, father and sister, and had had glimpses of those following their departure from him. He almost felt it with Magda, and he had taken a gratifying bite of it with Charles - and he had missed it so. Pietro had simply been a taste, but it was enough for him to go into a withdrawal and seek it once again. 

So Erik sits on green grass, overlooking a lake. Returning to a place familiar to him, where he had last indulged himself in such an addictive feeling. He felt pathetic and helpless, like a relapsed addict going back to what he should not have.

“I figured you’d be here, old friend,” Charles says gently, his face kind as always. Erik doesn’t know how he does it; live with such kindness in him.

Erik shrugs, “It’s a nice lake. With it, nice memories too.”

Charles smiles something fond, with a hint of sadness there too. It was one of those days closest to pure bliss Erik has ever had. It was a day that Erik thought impossible, but with Charles it seemed nothing was. He remembers the gentle tickling of dewy grass against his back, the sight of a school of birds flying over a big hard sun, and cumulus clouds as fluffy as Charles’ hair. He remembers laughter, from the belly, and stories from the heart. He remembers Charles’ lips, soft, pink - gentle when they kissed, careful, almost precious. Charles kissed with grace, and with purpose, and with so much thought - Charles had made Erik feel like a boy again. A boy that once was, full of heart, that could have been.

Charles rolls his wheelchair next to Erik, silent for a few moments as he watches a duckling splash around, under the guidance of two older ones. 

“You know, don’t you, Charles? About.. Pietro?” Erik says after a while, eyes still transfixed on a lotus flower peeking up from the lake.

“I do,” Charles affirms gently.

“I can never hide anything from you,” Erik chuckles, a little bitterly, a little fondly, a fine mix of both.

Charles shakes his head, “I can’t help it. Even if I weren’t a telepath I think I would still always be feeling you. Your feelings, speak volumes to me, always. I always feel you.”

Erik lets that sit between them for a moment, “It must pain you. To always be feeling so much.”

Charles chuckles fondly, “That’s where you’ve always been wrong, Erik. Feeling is not such a bad thing. It plagued me for a while, everybody’s emotion, but I see now how much of a gift that is. To not only experience the length and breadth of my own, but those of others too.”

Erik considers this, then presses his lips together, “That may be true. But feeling _me_ , all the time, with everything that’s been between us.. surely that must.. not always be pleasant.”

Charles contemplates for a little while, and then Erik can feel his gaze on him, watchful and thoughtful. “What we had.. was the most joy I have ever experienced. But a thing is not beautiful because it lasts. I would rather have had it and have lost than never have had it at all.”

Erik feels a wave of emotion wash over him, it stings his heart and brings a glassy veil over his eyes, but it’s cleansing. “I still carry you with me. I feel you too.”

Charles takes a soft inhale, and a shaky exhale; and Erik doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He wants to be able to know know what Charles was thinking again.

“Why carry me and tire yourself with the weight when you could just walk side by side with me?” Charles asks, it sounds rhetorical, but there’s just the tiniest inkling of desperation and hurt, a mildly bitter aftertaste in the punch of his words.

“Charles,” Erik tries, voice forced and strained now, “You know we can’t. You know how much hurt we put ourselves up to if we did. I have spent so many years trying to teach myself to unlearn loving you but I cannot. You are the mission and oath I have failed. Do not make this any harder than it is.”

Charles breath hitches, with a hybrid of anger and deep sadness, and he closes his eyes for a moment to regain his composure, “You were robbed. Of everything you deserved. I’m so sorry, Erik. But why now are you robbing _yourself_? Why have you taken the place of who hurt you? This pain, this cycle, it can end, Erik. If you just let yourself love, and be loved in return.”

Erik trembles, and is unable to speak. He has no answer. He doesn’t know what he even wants anymore.

Charles’ eyes are watering, and his grip on his wheelchair has become increasingly tight so his hands tremble, his grip on his composure loosening. “I have loved you from the moment I found you. You are the great love of my life, but Erik, you are a fool,” He sputters, “ _Your son_ recognized something you still cannot see. I told him the same words I have told you. Running is what he does best and yet he has discovered when to stop and look behind him. Its hard for him, and it takes time, but he doesn’t cut from the feeling anymore. _You.._ you always run, Erik.”

Charles takes a heavy, shaky breath as a tear quickly escapes him, trickling down his cheek and he swiftly wipes it away. “No wonder your child ends up with running as a mutation,” He mutters bitterly. 

Despite how Charles’ words seemed laced with poison and anger, it didn’t do anything to him. It just mildly brushed past him. After all Erik already sort of knew that. It made sense; it was a bitter truth but a truth nonetheless. They both loved each other, and that was a truth - but Erik couldn’t let himself. Love was frightening, and love was pain, and love was not easy. 

“How long have you known about Pietro? How long has he known?” Erik asks quietly.

Charles sighs, “I knew just a bit after he came to live here with us. It was just.. so obvious, that.. you and him.. were related. He told me himself about eight months or so after I figured it out, and by then it wasn’t a shock. I couldn’t tell you, it’s not my truth to tell.”

Erik nods in understanding.

“Peter is a good kid, Erik, he really is. He's been trying to tell you but he hurts, he is hurting, and it’s not easy for him, but most of all he didn’t want to hurt you,” Charles confesses, causing Erik to look over at him in surprise, “You are so alike in that way. You both view yourselves as.. something other. So much less than you are.”

Erik’s heart stings a bit. Of all the things to inherit from him. He wonders what other dark parts of himself that he’s passed on. But from what Charles says of Peter, and from what he’s seen in him himself, there’s so much light in his son. It makes him feel at the very least more at peace with himself. If anything Erik was able to bring in some light to this world even if he couldn’t be it himself.

“Thank you,” Erik whispers, “Thank you. For keeping him safe, and for giving him a home, and a family. I know Magda gave him her all but thank you for giving him what I didn’t.”

Charles frowns, “You should give it to him yourself. It’s not too late. He may be an adult, but he’s young, and in need of guidance. Besides, parents don’t stop being parents the moment a child turns eighteen. Family should be eternal.”

Erik sighs deeply and holds his head in his hands, “I can’t give that to him Charles. I don’t have what it takes although.. I would like to very much. He’s.. he’s astounding, Charles, truly. He is the best of me, and everything I couldn’t be. But I can’t give him what I want to give him, and I couldn't deal with that."

“That’s the thing about Peter. He doesn’t ask anything of you. He just needs you to be you.”

Erik’s heart swells, and it is full of love and enchantment but it swells so much it feels like it’s going to explode out of it chests that it hurts. There is no science to him that can explain how someone like Peter could hail from someone like him. 

Peter has his mother’s eyes. They were the same dark brown, intense and deep with that striking twinkle - but beyond the physical attributes too. Peter sees the world as Magda did, with a hazy, rosy filter that made colours brighter and everything all the more exciting. 

“He asks so little,” Erik croaks.

“You think so little of yourself,” Charles laments, “You have always been enough. Always. I would know.”

Erik’s lip trembles, vision blurry now from the tears that threaten to spill, “I.. I want to be his father. I want to love him. And.. I want to love you, Charles.”

Charles makes a sound, like a gasp of delight, or a pained whimper, somewhere in between. He bursts with emotion either way.

_“But what do you want?” Peter presses, “Honestly, in a world where your bizarro rules don’t exist.”_

_Erik looks stunned, as if he had never thought of it, like he had never thought it could have ever been asked of him. He looks distant, “I would like to be happy.”_

_“Are you happy here?” Peter questions._

_“I feel like I could be. If fate would allow it so,” Erik says quietly, “But alas, it is not how the story is writ.”_

“I know what I want now, Charles, I just don’t know if that kind of thing can happen for me,” Erik says shakily, burying his head into his knees.

“Then stay.”

Then his heart is aching and exploding and mountains collapse and the earth quakes and tsunamis collide with the land and tectonic plates crash and subduct and pull apart all at once and the worlds not quite the same anymore.

Looking into Charles’ eyes it’s 1963 and they’re so much younger and as are their hearts, and they are building their lives around each other. The stolen missing parts of himself he had been searching for suddenly he had no need for them. Then there were only sundown promises, of their future days, the days that would belong to them.

“I’m asking you to stay Erik. It’s not a suggestion, or an offering of a place to stay in the mean time, or a job offer, to join the x men. This is me, asking you,” Charles declared, “I am asking you to let me love you. And to love me in return, Erik. I want you in my life. I don’t want to be without you anymore.”

Erik is frozen, rendered powerless and small, a pond in comparison to Charles’ ocean. He could have sworn this would be what a heart attack feels like but he knows that love cannot be found in one. Emotions exploding, Erik can only look at Charles with gravity.

“I want to,” Erik declares, but with the way his voice shakes and tremors they both know there’s still another mountain to climb.

Charles gets that look, the one where Erik knows he’s thinking pensively about something, as Charles often is. Charles is in his own head so much of the time, but Erik had learned to love that part of him. It was always impossible to unlearn loving Charles Xavier. He knew his inner philosophical debates that would keep him preoccupied from task, or his psychoanalysis of everyone he would meet, or the nostalgia he’d often find himself reminiscing. Erik loved Charles Xavier’s head just as much as he did his heart.

“What are you thinking about?” Erik asks gently.

“Just.. do you remember? That day, I think it was.. just some time after you moved the satellite dish. And we were laying here together, here, on the grass. Just looking at clouds,” Charles reminisces fondly, still not quite able to meet Erik’s gaze - as if too attached to the memory and afraid that reality was too far removed from it.

Erik manages a full bellied laugh, “Of course. You went and kissed me.”

Charles reddens slightly, “Oh, shut up, you were leaning in first.”

Erik laughs a little more, and smiles just slightly, “It was a good day, wasn’t it? Things almost felt simple. I could use simple.”

Charles pauses and speaks, shyly almost, “Can I show you something?”

“I’d like.. I’d like to go back to that, simplicity. Even just for a few minutes. Could you help me get down there?” Charles continues.

Erik nods, unable to resist, moving to support Charles as he laid him down on the grass, and he soon joined him to just lay there, bask in the sun for a little while. Erik didn’t see the sun most days. He worked by night a lot of the time. He was one with the night, but he didn’t even realize how much he had been yearning for warm rays and a warm embrace.

They just watch clouds in silence, in a serene simplicity, for a little while.

Then Charles, using his upper body turns himself so he’s laying facing Erik, and Erik naturally follows. They hadn’t been this close to each other in so long. They tread in waters Erik knows they shouldn’t, but the temptation is too irresistible, and it feels just right, and almost like instinct.

“Let me show you what could be,” Charles begs gently.

Erik gives in, and he would, over and over again. With a firm but soft nod Charles slowly presses his forehead against Erik’s, and Erik almost cries from the sweet, ambrosia of touch, but before he can even fully feel it he finds himself consumed into Charles’s mind, becoming one with him.

And the first thing he sees is himself.

_He is seeing himself through Charles’ eyes. He sees himself smiling and the sun shines a little brighter. He hears his laugh and the whole world seems to shift and the planets collide leaving stardust. He seems to take Charles’ place as they wake up and they’re in a bed that is their own, Erik smiling sleepily and softly, his finger delicately stroking his, or rather Charles’ face, sunlight streaming in from the window, hitting his face. Now he’s outside of Charles’ body, overlooking the scene and he can see there is so much love in Charles’ eyes feels his heart racing and bursting out of his chest._

_He smells dewy grass and Charles’ sweet cologne. He can feel his soft, soft hair in between his fingertips. He feels his soft skin against his. And then his lips, in this electrifying touch that completely jolts him. And it leaves a minty feeling on his own lips._

_He sees them lit by moonshine. They stand outside their balcony, wrapped in bathrobes in a scene of domestic bliss. Charles is tucked into Erik’s side. He feels his hand intertwined in his own, and the skin is soft, and it’s warm, and he feels completely secure. Erik leans closer to him, so they are practically nose to nose—and his eyes are inviting._

_“I love you,” Charles whispers, and the words echo like a distant lullaby and he is floating in ecstasy and magic._

Erik opens his eyes and it’s like he’s woken up from a dream. He feels at bliss. And at peace. Little fragments and remnants of magic remain in the air. His hands tingle a little. And his heart is enchanted.

“You, my oldest friend, are what aches in me, and yet are all of my hope. Please come home,” Charles whispers, tears freely flowing now. He’s so focused on Charles’ tears Erik doesn’t realise his own.

“Would you mind?” Charles asks quietly, and Erik nods quickly, lifting Charles into his arms and placing him carefully onto his chair.

Charles takes a moment to regain his composure, wiping his face as he inhales deeply, all of his troubles and hurts, and lets it all out in a shaky exhale, “Please just think about it.”

“I have classes to teach. I’ll give you your time to make your choice,” Charles concludes as he begins to wheel himself away, away from Erik, away from this all. They’ve been here before, parting from each other and breaking apart the strings that held them together but inevitably knotted together again in due time. It still hurt every time though.

“I love you,” Erik whispers weakly, so pathetically, barely even audibly. Charles doesn’t look back, continuing to wheel himself away. He wonders if it hurts too much for him to look back. 

“I know.”

* * *

Erik stands over his suitcase. It’s half packed, and he must choose if he is to finish packing or begin unpacking. 

Often he finds himself without choice. Forced and steered in a direction that he merely has to accept. He doesn’t often find himself in a place like this, being asked to choose. Does he follow the heart that often aches or the head that spares him from feeling? It seems Erik has never had to give an answer until now.

Peering into his suitcase Erik discovers the records Peter had gifted him. With a fond chuckle Erik’s face is lit entirely by a bright, moved smile that absolutely could not be erased. All this time this boy has tried to reach into the depths of himself he hid away, share with him the parts of himself that Peter too hid away - and if that wasn’t unadulterated kindness Erik doesn’t know what is. 

Erik places the record on the turn table, and sits himself on the bed and just stays there. It’s a crucial moment for him, and there is nothing he can do but sit in the moment, pray an answer will come to him. If not, at least Erik is listening to music, a luxury that had been denied to him. If he cannot have those he loves, his son’s parting gift at the very least would be the gift of music. At the very least, if Erik cannot have him he can have some of him, the songs of Peter’s heart and soul, presented and given to him like an heirloom to treasure. No matter what happens now Peter has changed him - a comet pulled from its orbit and all has shifted. 

_Take heart, my friend, we love you_   
_Though it seems like you're alone_   
_A million lights above you_   
_Smile down upon your home_   
_Oh, hurry, put your troubles in a suitcase_   
_Come, let the new child play_

The lyrics flow into him and embrace him like a warm blanket at night or loving arms in the morning. It is as if his son speaks to him with a clear, gentle voice and for once Erik listens.

_"Your entire life is a fight. Wouldn’t you want to fight for a life to live, for what you love, than to fight to your death for a life you’ll never know? Be a bit selfish, man. One man can’t carry the entire world,” Peter argues._

**Fuck it. It’s time to be selfish.**

Give him clouds and rain and grey. Give him pain if that is what is real; it is simply the price one pays to feel. 

Erik hurries back into the medical wing, quietly making his way across to where Peter’s bed is and rejoices quietly in himself to find that he looks to be sleeping peacefully. It’s still weird to see him like that, quiet, unmoving — but at rest. Erik loves Peter’s energy and restlessness but he’s also glad to see him in peace and comfort. He wishes everything good the world can offer for his son. 

He sits himself next to his son and just watches over him. He thinks of what to say when he wakes. He can think of nothing at all. 

All he can do is watch over him and take him all in and prepare himself to love, and to love, and to love. He brushes the hair on Peter’s face to the side, then places his hands over top Peter’s - a gesture of an explosion of emotions. He holds onto Peter as an apology for the time they had lost; a form of gratitude for his kindness, and a father’s promise to guard and guide. At last Erik feels a sense of peace in the universe.

The last time Erik felt like this he had been with his mother and it had just been him and her and everything was alright. Except now he was older, and so much more connected to her for the first time in such a long time. He understood her now. She felt closer to him than she’s ever been since she departed. She had come back to him.

Peter had brought family back into his life. This was a gift Erik could no longer waste. Looking at Peter he is astonished, that in all these years of pain and misery and lonesomeness all along there had been an answer.

Erik has no words. He hasn’t much to give but as Peter shared a part of himself with him Erik decides to do the same. He closes his eyes and bears his soul to his son, offering himself and all the love he has inside of him. He just prays there’s enough left. 

_“Odpocznij moje dziecko_   
_Dzień się skończył_   
_Słońce zaświeci_   
_Gdy przyjdzie poranek_   
_Ale teraz jest ciemno i świat jest spokojny_   
_Więc daj odpocząć oczom swym i zaśnij..”_

“Wow. You do have good taste after all, old man,” A weak, raspy voice teases.

“Pietro?” Erik exclaims, looking up to find a pair of dark, tired but twinkling eyes.

“Hey man,” Peter croaks, turning to cough into his shoulder. “Your god awful singing woke me up.” He softens almost instantaneously, smiling gently, “I’m joking. It was really nice. I liked that. What song was it..?”

Erik’s eyes prick up with joyous tears, his grip tightening on Peter’s hand, laughing, “I thought we had lost you and the first thing you do is joke around and ask me about a song.”

Peter looks down at his hand being held by Erik in confusion, but doesn’t seem to comment yet. “Well, don’t leave me hanging.”

“It was my mother’s lullaby. Taught to me. It was taught to her by her mother, and by her mother before her. It is a song for family.”

Peter’s breath hitches.

“So naturally it is time I teach you, _my son_ ,” Erik expresses tearfully. 

Not even a fraction of a second after Erik finishes his sentence Peter is lunging forwards to envelop Erik in an embrace so fervent with love. Erik wonders where Peter gets such love. Peter wraps his arms around Erik, burying his face into the crook of his neck as his grip tightens, as if terrified Erik would disappear and turn into dust, clinging tightly and adamant to not let go.

“I’m here,” Erik promises, letting Peter hold him and supporting his weight. Erik allows himself to fall into the embrace, and allow himself this feeling.

“You don’t mind?” Peter chokes, muffled by the hug.

“What? What do you mean?” 

“I just know I’m not what you probably expected and I know I’m probably a huge letdown like I really am kind of a loser and I’m like kinda really weird and totally annoying and I don’t even know how to do laundry, man, and like I’m not nearly as rad as you and-“ Peter rambles on, shaking slightly against Erik’s grip.

Erik closes his eyes and gives Peter a squeeze and a kiss against his head, “You are exceptional, and I would have you no other way.”

Peter makes a strained noise.

“Pietro?” Erik asks worriedly.

“No, sorry, that was just my heart screeching,” Peter admits shyly.

Erik laughs and pats Peter’s head fondly, so very clear he had no plans of letting go.

“I’ve been trying to tell you man, but something kept coming up, either I was totally scared or I wasn’t sure if you’d want me or if worried i’d hurt you and I just- I was going to tell you today and I couldn’t just let you go, I just see you walking around here and you’re just _so lonely_ and I see you and maybe I’m lonely too, and you deserve family and I don’t want you to be alone anymore, I-“

Erik shushes him, and presses his forehead against his son’s, “You have shown me that I’m not. You made me realize that. I’m through with running. And there’s no need for you to do so either anymore. You are at home. You have everything you need right here, I promise.”

Peter nods, his breath shaky from overwhelming emotion, “How did you figure it out?”

Erik pulls away, “You have your mother’s eyes. There is a light in you that is alluring.”

Peter chuckles weakly, “Mom always says that. Wanda has.. _h-had_ your eyes.”

Erik’s heart frosts over for a while, realising the gravity and the tragedy of this all. While accepting Peter as his son has brought him a sense of being alive once more it comes with knowing he has lost a daughter before he had ever gotten the chance to love her. He knows that this loss will hang over both of them for a while, maybe even forever to an extent, but right now he holds Peter in his arms and makes a vow. Erik lets go of his oath to never love and writes a new one, and vows himself to the protection and utmost love of his family, or those who matter most.

Peter swallows thickly, “I’m not ready. To.. talk about _her_. I hope that’s okay. I _will_ be, I just..”

Erik shakes his head and gives Peter another small kiss to the temple, “I understand. I know it’s not easy. I will be here when you are.”

“I also got access to your file and realised your last name, and your mother’s name, and where you were born. I left your mother in September and.. it all made sense,” Erik explains, “..and, you calling me ‘dad’ before you passed out may have helped the process too.”

Peter blushes, “I-.. okay, I was concussed, give me a break.”

Erik laughs and let’s go of his grip on Peter, letting him become mobile again. As soon as he does Peter pales, wincing in pain, hand shooting up to his head, clearly in pain. Erik quickly helps him lay back down, and soothes him by letting his hair and smoothing it back.

“I’m totally fine, sorry, I just, my head is just a bit sore,” Peter explains through gritted teeth. Erik sighs and shakes his head, “You don’t have to pretend to be a tough guy for me. You hurt yourself really bad.”

Erik gently takes Peter’s face and pulls it towards him, giving him a stern gaze, “Never try to save my life again.”

Peter laughs and rolls his eyes, “No can do, pops. I would do it over and over and over again. Only because you’re such a slowpoke.”

Erik sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “I have a feeling you will be both the bane and the great blessing of my existence.”

Peter grins, “That’s me.”

“There is so much you have to tell me. I want to know everything,” Erik relishes softly.

“Woah, slow down old man, we’ve got plenty of time for that. I literally can’t remember what I ate for breakfast so we gotta work through that,” Peter teases, then softens, “I wanna know about you too. You’re batshit crazy but I like that. I’ve always liked crazy. It’s why I love this place.”

Erik nods, “We do have plenty of time. At least I pray we do.”

Peter smiles, “We’ll have to give you a reason to stick around. Besides, you have Genosha now. You don’t have to keep doing your cowboy gunslinger thing anymore. This is your home too.”

“I have more reason to stay than I ever deserved.”

Peter squeezes Erik’s hand at that. He begins to snuggle himself back into the covers, pulling them up as his eyes droop. “I hope I can be something for you.”

“You already are. And you will continue to be. I have faith we can build something together.”

"Faith, huh?" Peter smiles, closing his eyes and nuzzling his face against his pillow, “That sounds rad, man. I feel pretty awesome right now.” He pouts a little bit, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m..” He yawns. “.. so tired.. get me a coffee or something, I wanna keep.. talking.”

“We’ll have so many days for that, Pietro, I promise. But for now, you need to rest. You’re still recovering,” Erik coos as he fixes Peter’s bed for him and ensuring he is wrapped up adequately. “I will be here when you wake.”

Peter nods slightly, and Erik chuckles. “I’ll even be here to teach you to do your laundry.”

Peter whines a little, and though his voice is muffled by his pillow Erik hears him clearly, “I have.. a really good feeling about this.”

Erik only leaves him as soon as he knows Peter is definitely asleep and at peace. He would then find himself up in his room again, dumping all the belongings within his suitcase onto his bed and stashing the suitcase away into his closet. Suddenly his room feels like it’s his again, and not like a hotel room he’s rented for a time being.

Then Erik quietly makes his way past the halls, the mansion dead silent as the children sleep, and he leads himself to Charles’ bedroom. It almost feels like instinct, like routine.

When he enters the bedroom Charles’ back is facing him as he lays in bed, seemingly asleep. Erik crawls into bed with him, pulling Charles close to his chest as he wraps an arm around his waist in a way that’s says ‘you are mine’. He kisses the back of Charles’ neck lovingly, and slotted here on Charles’ bed, holding him, it feels like Erik was always meant to be here. He belongs right where he is, and there is a familiarity about a moment that hasn’t actually happened before - Erik thinks it must be fate.

“I need you by my side,” Erik whispers lovingly into Charles’ ear who shivers delicately, “You are too good to be gone from my life. I’m here to stay.” 

Charles doesn’t speak, and only squeezes Erik’s arm wrapped around him, as if trying to confirm to himself that Erik is real. And if Erik hears Charles crying quietly he doesn’t say anything and merely plants kisses against his skin as promises of love. Promises of future days.

And Erik would stick to that promise, as Charles would find himself living one of his fondest and most treasured dreams of waking up next to his beloved. He would find himself having to take in the wonder of all of this, of the wonder in a simple breakfast with the love he thought he had lost and a semi-step son who had woken up feeling much better and was wolfing down pancakes.

It seemed this was how things were going to be now - and it was everything that any of them ever could have wanted. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all liked this and take this as something to cheer us Peter stans up from this absolute mess. I remain a Peter Maximoff truther to the day I die and am still optimistic! Again, please let me know any prompt/suggestion you'd like to see from this series next! The support I've received has been incredible and I am so grateful!!


End file.
